


The Secret Life of One, John Hamish Watson.

by pandashurley



Series: The Secret Lives [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Desire, Dom!Sherlock, M/M, Porn, Sub!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandashurley/pseuds/pandashurley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: John loves taking orders from Sherlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Life of One, John Hamish Watson.

"John! Joooohn!" Sherlock called through the flat. "John!" Sometimes it was downright infuriating when the man didn't answer. This was important, this couldn't wait, this had to happen now. "Damnit, John! Where are you?" Sherlock had already checked the soldier's bedroom and even went to go knock on Mrs. Hudson's door. He was no where to be found. Sherlock had woken up on the couch with a start realizing that he had been waiting up for John to come back from his date last night. He wasn't woken up by the door and he wanted to hear how John had failed in his latest conquest. Sherlock knew the obvious reason why. John wasn't attracted to any of them the way he was attracted to Sherlock. Those women were just an attempt to solidify his sexuality in front of all the idiots that had been questioning their platonic relationship. Though, as Sherlock realized in an epiphany the night before, this was no longer platonic. The long gazes, the way Sherlock felt comfortable deleting his own personal space to get closer to the man. There was attraction and attraction was curious. He hadn't been attracted to another person in such a way for what seemed like ages. Sherlock had deduced all the signs of John's impending crush and had attempted to circumnavigate them so their relationship wouldn't have to change. That was before Chloe.

Chloe was one of the few women that John had dated that actual stuck around. She was smart enough to see early on the bond between the two men, who had understood it and who wasn't jealous. Sherlock found he had a small interest in her as well, but considering her general snarky temperament, Sherlock's crush was quickly squashed. It had been late one night, after midnight. Sherlock had gone to his room in an attempt to give them time alone. He wasn't a complete arse, though you wouldn't really know it. The sounds were too tell-tale. Leather against skin, muffled yelps, and the eventual cascade into coitus. Sherlock never knew why John had to be the one with a squeaky mattress. It obviously hadn't been the first time though. First timers are a lot louder than that, Sherlock thought. He had to know and so the next time she came over, he paid specific attention. When he heard them move from the living room up to John's room, he waited what he assumed was an appropriate amount of time and silently padded up after them.

To his complete surprise, it wasn't John holding the whip. It was Chloe. Sherlock could see little from the crack in the door, but he saw ropes around his beloved soldier, heard small muffled whimpers, guessing at a ball gag or something of the like, and a strong commanding voice from the woman slowly circling him like a hawk. As pretty as she was, it was seeing John bound and gagged that had Sherlock palming the erection in his pajamas. His strong, confident John was reduced to begging and it was the single hottest thing Sherlock had seen in his lifetime.

The world of BDSM was not new to the detective, and he had plenty of playmates over the years. Doms and subs alike. It was the thought of John, on his knees, mouth pried open, long pink lash lines covering his body, that had Sherlock positivly salivating. He had never wanted someone so badly, nor to ever see John more helpless at his command. This would be so perfect if he could get John to willingly submit. Which, judging by Chloe, he would. There had to be a way to do it while avoiding awkward relationship blather. Sherlock snuck away from John's room, still hard and began to plan. Chloe hadn't lasted much longer, though Sherlock never knew why. They had a comfortable chemistry. One day John just came home and said it was over. He looked sad, but at the same time, he had held Sherlock's gaze longer than usual in expectation of some snide remark. Sherlock simply commented on what a shame it was, or some other such nonsense, feigning interest while inside his chest, his heart was doing what could only be described as a samba. John smirked, shrugged and made them both some tea.

It had been three weeks since then. Three weeks of planning. Three weeks of scripting every moment. Three weeks of research, preparation, and anticipation and finally Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore. Sherlock sat in his chair silently. John was somewhere but eventually he was coming back. Sherlock didn't want to wait any longer. He picked up his phone.

**You aren't in the flat. -SH**

**I've been looking. I don't understand why children like to play hide and seek. -SH**

**I'm at work, Sherlock. I told you this morning before I left. Why are you looking for me? -JW**

**I wanted to talk to you. -SH**

**I don't see how me being gone makes a difference. You always talk to me when I'm not there and just fill me in later. -JW**

**This is something I need your input on. -SH**

**Fill me in later. I'll bring home dinner. -JW**

Sherlock huffed out an angry sound. He was frustrated. He was trying to think what would get John home as soon as possible. It was barely approaching noon and John wouldn't be off until after 5. Only if he didn't get called into surgery. Then there was no telling how long he would be gone.

**This is too important. -SH**

**It can't wait until I'm done? -JW**

**I've been waiting three weeks already, John. -SH**

**Been waiting for what? -JW**

God, how was he going to answer. Being blunt always seemed to work with John but confessing something as surprising as sexual attraction over text wasn't the way he was taught. Courting or flirting or what ever it was called should always be done face to face. He had learned that from some of the television shows John made him watch.

**I can't tell you over text. -SH**

**Oh wow, it must be important then. Mr. I-prefer-to-text. ;) -JW**

**I cannot tell if you are being sarcastic or sincere, John. This is why I can't do it over text. -SH**

**Should I call you? -JW**

Sherlock paused for a moment. Over the phone? Weren't there rules somewhere about that? Some unspoken social code... There had to be. Sherlock wanted to do this right despite his disturbing lack of knowledge on how to proceed.

**No, it has to be in person. -SH**

**I suppose I will just wait for you to come home. -SH**

**I'm already tired of waiting, I miss you. -SH**

He pressed send before he realized it, and considering this particular phenomenon had never happened to the genius before, he panicked. He knew there was no way to get it back and had started an inevitably awkward conversation via text.

**That didn't take long. What do you miss? Me bugging you to clean? Me screaming at the dead body parts in the fridge? -JW**

**I don't know how honest you want me to be. -SH**

**I've never done this before. -SH**

**Done what? -JW**

What a good question, Sherlock mused. No answers were coming so he put his phone down and began to alter his plan. There were two ways he could do this, try to get John home now via some sort of ruse or spend the afternoon setting the living room up like his own personal dungeon. Though with what Sherlock had planned, Mrs. Hudson would most likely call John to ask what sort of racket was going on in their flat. The first option was obviously the best way to go, though how would be interesting. Maybe he could tell John he started a fire, or hurt himself. He didn't want John to be angry, he wanted John to come home and want to be on his knees for Sherlock. That in itself was a real challenge.

 **What haven't you done before, Sherlock? -JW**

**Confessed my desire for someone via text message. -SH**

**Wait, what? Desire? -JW**

**Yes, John. I don't know how you missed it. -SH**

There was no response for several minutes. Maybe he had stepped too far this time. His phone buzzed again.

**I didn't. I was just wondering how long it was going to take you to admit it. -JW**

**Why didn't you say anything sooner? -SH**

**Chloe and I thought it best that you come to the conclusion on your own. ;) -JW**

Sherlock was stunned, frozen. Chloe knew. John knew. How could he have been so obvious?

**Chloe? Which one was she? -SH**

**Trying to play coy and clever? Sherlock, you're better than pretending to be stupid. Chloe saw you that night. -JW**

**She said you were practically drooling. -JW**

**She wanted to invite you in to play too, but when she looked up again, you were gone. -JW**

**Stunned into silence? This must be quite the sight, wish I was there to see it. -JW**

Sherlock had no idea what to send back. This was weird, for lack of a better term. Chloe had seen him. They both had talked about him. Chloe was going to invite him in to their world. While Sherlock didn't find the female form nearly as pleasing as his own, he had enjoyed seeing her strength and could imagine her getting him down on his knees. Despite the fact that he hadn't been submissive since the last man he had relations with.

**It wouldn't take you long to get home. -SH**

**Ah! It speaks! No, it would not. But thinking about how uncomfortable you are right now is making me smile. -JW**

**Now that's just cruel, John. You must know how much I love your smile. -SH**

**Love my smile? Little mushy for you, Holmes. -JW**

**I love picturing that smile because I love watching your lips. I often imagine what they would look like wrapped around my cock. -SH**

That should shut him up, Sherlock though as he hit send with a flourish. This day was turning out better than expected.

**Fuck, Sherlock. So do I. I bet you taste amazing. -JW**

**There are a lot of things I have planned for you John. I want you home. Right now. -SH**

**Then tell me a few. Make me want to come home. -JW**

Sherlock hesitated a moment. He still had no idea if John was joking or not. If he was serious though, it would be a dream come true.

**I'd love to tie your hands to the ceiling, but with a rope long enough you could kneel. If I pulled at it, it would pull you to standing. I oiled my riding crop, it's so soft now, John. I can just imagine the beautiful marks it would leave on your pretty ass. -SH**

**I have a box of ties. I'd like to tie each one of your limbs to a post on my bed with a different color tie. I'd love to stuff one in your mouth, cover your eyes, tie one around your cock and tease you. -SH**

**Most of all, John, I want to see you laid out on my bed, falling apart, cumming all over my hands as I fuck you relentlessly for as long as I want. -SH**

The silence was deafening. Sherlock was staring at his phone, willing John to answer. Maybe John wasn't being serious, maybe he just ruined the one relationship he ever had worth keeping. Maybe-

**None of this is new to you, obviously. What toys do you have, Sherlock? -JW**

**Several whips, crops and flogging implements. Hundreds of feet of rope in varying colors and textiles. Several sets of anal beads, plugs, vibrators, dildos, handcuffs... Shall I continue? -SH**

**Why, Sherlock Holmes, if I had known what a kinky bastard you were... -JW**

**Would you really have done anything different? -SH**

**We would have been having this conversation a lot sooner. -JW**

**Do you want me to touch myself, Sherlock? Here in my office? -JW**

**I want to see you touch yourself, John. I want you to show me how you like to be touched... at least at first. -SH**

**I want you to come home now. I want to see you touching yourself. I want to see me touching you. I want to see your face as I bury my cock inside you, John. I want to hear you beg to cum. I want you, all of you, every part of you, right now. -SH**

**Fuck, Sherlock. You know I'm not going to cum without your permission, but after that I am ridiculously close. -JW**

**Then come home. -SH**

**If you get here in a half an hour, I won't fuck your face nearly as hard as I'm going to fuck your ass. -SH**

**And if I wait? -JW**

**I have several cock rings, John. I can use all of them and fuck you until you're crying. -SH**

**I can cum in you over and over, plug you up, deny you and take you out for dinner. You can sit there in Angelo's and feed him some lie about how we aren't together even though we both know how hard you are and how you're full of my cum. I can stroke you under the table, edging you again and again. Maybe, just maybe, when we come back home, I'll fuck you a few more times before I finally let you cum, hot and messy into the sheets. -SH**

**Sarah can go fuck herself, I'll be there in 20. -JW**

Sherlock smiled. Finally, it was going to happen. Finally he could have his John. And oh god, was he going to make him beg. Sherlock stood, adjusting his throbbing erection before walking into his bedroom to situate things. If he was going to have John Hamish Watson in any way he wished, he was going to be prepared for every eventuality. It wasn't even 20 minutes later before he heard the door open. John was calm, not slamming, not running but when Sherlock went out into the living room to greet him, everything about the man was screaming with desire.

His pupils were blown wide open, his chest rising and falling quickly but there was no audible breath. He looked like he was sweating, like he had sprinted. Probably out of the hospital and down to find a cab, which Sherlock could just hear pulling away. The silence between them was tense, and both seemed to be wondering what the next step was going to be. Sherlock hadn't really thought of what he was going to say or do if John had actually shown up in 20 minutes, and John wasn't sure what he was going to expect. Saying something over text was one thing, but this was obviously an admission to the mutual attraction they shared. 

"Sherlock..." John started before he saw the tall detective reveal the riding crop he had been hiding behind his back. It fell into his open palm with a slight snap, and John snapped his mouth closed as Sherlock sauntered toward him. 

"Did I say you could speak to me?" Sherlock asked, bringing the crop up underneath John's chin.

"No." John whispered. He gasped as he felt that crop snap across his clothed backside. 

"No, what?" Sherlock asked, winding his arm up again.

"No, sir?" John ventured. Another crack across his clothed ass.

"No, master?" John tried again. He was rewarded with a hand petting through his hair. 

"Good boy." Sherlock fisted his hair and pulled his head back, not too rough but not as gentle persuasion either. John was forced to look at Sherlock's smirking face. "I'm going to ask you a question, John." Sherlock released his grip and John swallowed roughly.

"Yes, master." John said quietly. 

"Where should I start?" Sherlock asked, peeling John's outer layers off and letting them drop to the floor. Sherlock brought his head into the space between John's neck and shoulder and inhaled, smelling the heat and the sweat and the arousal. 

"Where ever you would like, master." John said shakily, the desire in his body making him tremble. Sherlock bit his shoulder through his clothes and snapped the crop against the back of one of his thighs, eliciting a rather welcome yelp into the overly silent space.

"Try again." Sherlock purred into his ear, untucking John's shirts from his trousers.

"You could tease me, if you like, Master. Or I could please you in any way you saw fit, Master." Sherlock smiled, John was very good at what he was doing. Perfectly submissive, perfectly still, perfectly perfect.

"A few good ideas, John. I have so much in mind. I love how you snap to attention for me." Sherlock grabbed John's ass through his trousers to punctuate the word snap. John's body straightened, his shoulders fell back, he looked ready for anything. Sherlock was going to take his time taking him apart. He wanted to turn this man from the structure he was now possessing, into a mindless slave ready to please him. Maybe they would go out for dinner tonight after all. "Shirts. Off." Sherlock said simply, still holding the riding crop. He positioned himself in front of the soldier, who obediently and with a slight hesitation, divested himself of his shirts. John wasn't tan, but he wasn't pale like Sherlock either. He had what Americans would call "Farmer's Tan" but it was only because he hadn't been shirtless during his Afghanistan tour. Sherlock licked his lips as his eyes settled on the puckered star burst scar on John's shoulder. Bullet wound. Sherlock had always been curious at what it looked like. He reached out with the crop first, pressing barely warm leather to hard scar. "Does it hurt?" Sherlock asked, pressing a little harder behind the crop.

"No, master. Well..." John trailed off. "It hurts when I overextend or overexert, master." John said carefully. This was important, though minor. Sherlock had already taken into account the man's ambidextrous nature, his shoulder and whatever might trigger his psychosomatic limp to come back again. All those positions and ideas had been filed away for a time that wouldn't be their first. Those would take considerably more trust than this moment.

"Do you trust me, John?" Sherlock asked, cupping one side of John's face in his hand and looking deep into his eyes. John brought his hand up to cover Sherlock's and nuzzled slightly into the touch.

"God, yes." John moaned, licking the pad of Sherlock's thumb as it drifted over his lips. Sherlock closed the gap between them and forced his tongue into John's mouth, both men groaning in relief at finally being touched, being kissed. Both men, fighting over this small step forward, battling with each other before John felt a sharp tug on his hair and he broke the kiss. Sherlock smiled at him.

"Good. On your knees." Sherlock commanded, pressing lightly on the soldier's uninjured shoulder. John obediently fell to his knees. "Mmm, good boy." Sherlock said petting through his hair again. "Stay." Sherlock said before walking away from the man presenting himself like a gift. He shut the door to their flat, not wanting to take the chance of anyone barging in. He locked the door and almost thought to put a sign on the front of it, but decided that if anyone were to knock, John would be sent to answer the door no matter of his condition at the moment. Sherlock circled back around him and dropped the crop at his knees, all the while untucking his own shirt and slowly pulling at the buttons.

"You are very obedient. Chloe isn't the only one. How long John?" Sherlock asked as he stripped off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor before sliding his hands to his waist and propping them there.

"Started in the army, I suppose, master. After I got out, I missed taking orders. Found local Dom's, male or female, it didn't matter. When I realized how expensive it was, and how I couldn't keep up, I had to settle. Master." John admitted, Sherlock allowing him to look up and drink it all that cool, milky skin.

"Interesting." Sherlock said, dragging his hands down to his belt and slowly undoing it.

"Found more women though. Most men want to Dom women. I think it's rather misogynistic. Men have a heavier hand, more sadistic nature, there have only been a few..." John trailed off as he caught Sherlock's eyes with his. "But something tells me, Master, that you are going to be better than all of them." John smiled.

"And they say that flattery will get you no where..." Sherlock grinned as he pulled his belt free and started undoing his pants. "You want to touch me, don't you, John." John licked his lips.

"For starters, master." John admitted. Sherlock undid his trousers and slid them down his legs. He had on a tight pair of black boxer briefs, and Sherlock could tell John's mouth was basically watering. Sherlock placed a hand on John's head and used him for balance as he stepped out and cast his trousers aside. Before removing his hand, he fisted it again in John's hair and snapped his head back, drawing a his from the man on his knees. Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, just looking and grasping and wondering which direction he was going to go.

"Open your mouth, John." His jaw dropped open, immediately and Sherlock was drawn to that pretty pink tongue just sitting there. He took a finger and lightly prodded it before giving it one solid stroke. John didn't close his mouth, of course, because he hadn't been told. A moan rumbled out of the man on his knees and Sherlock immediately knew what he wanted first. "Don't take your eyes off me, John." Sherlock commanded, letting go of his soldier's hair and hooking both of his thumbs into his pants before slowly pulling them down. He used John again as a balance, John's mouth still obediently open. Sherlock growled. "Stick out your tongue." Sherlock was so excited, almost too excited to do what he had planned next. He swiped his whole palm over John's tongue before wrapping his hand around himself and stroking his already hard and glistening cock. John breathed deeply, loving the view. After a few more swipes, John was almost begging with his mouth wide open to taste that cock for real, not just the brief rushes of flavor from Sherlock's hand, but he didn't dare move. Finally, as if reading his mind, Sherlock placed the head of his spit slick cock right on top of John's waiting tongue. "Close." John moaned as he finally closed his mouth around the cock he had been dreaming about for a while now.

Sherlock didn't tell him to move, but he did anyway, earning a low moan and a hiss from the man standing above him. John moaned too, the vibrations snaking up Sherlock's cock and straight up his spine. John was happily swallowing every inch he could fit, trailing his tongue along the underside, sucking harder on the head, running his tongue across the slit, all dragging semi-reluctant moans out of the hard consulting detective.

"Fucking hell, John..." Sherlock moaned. "Mmm, your mouth feels just like I wanted it to. Hot, wet and tight. I can't wait to open you up and get inside of you." Sherlock started to thrust his cock in and out of John's mouth, holding his head still. "Look at me, John..." Blue eyes met grey. "Fuck John, you look gorgeous with my cock stuffing your face like that." Sherlock started pumping a little faster. "I want to cum down your throat, John. I want you to eat my cum, and then I want to beat you until I get hard again." John moaned, sending more electricity up Sherlock's spine. "Oh god, yes, John..." Sherlock was losing his composure. He hadn't masturbated in a long time, so getting a few orgasms out of the way would allow their night to last as long as possible. "Oh god, John... yes... Take it... Fuck... John!" Sherlock shouted as he came. Sherlock pulled out of John's mouth and watched him swallow, determined not to go weak at the knees.

"You know, Sherlock. For a prim and proper, supposedly virginal Englishman, you have a frightfully dirty mouth." John smiled at him. "This wasn't ever going to be a normal Dom/sub relationship, was it?" John asked, sliding his legs out from underneath him to sit cross legged. Sherlock smiled back at him. 

"No, John. I suppose not. And I'll thank you not to mention my vulgarities to anyone. Mycroft would shit a brick." Sherlock said, almost losing control of the laughter and the happiness bubbling up inside of him. John couldn't hold it any longer, he burst out laughing and soon Sherlock was too. It was admittedly one of the stranger post coital activities he had been a part of.

"Yes, yes he would. Master." John winked at him, picked up the riding crop and handed it back to the naked detective. Sherlock smiled and took it from him. "I did like your idea for dinner. Considering we have a few hours, maybe..." John winked at him and Sherlock was almost instantly hard all over again.

"Get up, John." The soldier snapped to attention and Sherlock circled around behind him. He dropped the riding crop again, but his hands were about to be very busy. He wrapped his arms around John and hugged him close to his chest before smoothing his hands down John's chest to the top of his trousers. He was kissing John's injured shoulder, nipping from time to time, and making quick work of the zipper and buttons keeping him from what he desperately wanted the most. He hastily pushed John's trousers and pants down, before wrapping his long fingers around John's cock, earning a hiss out of the man. He flesh in his hands was rock hard, wet and positively dripping with need. "Bedroom." Sherlock said, spinning him around and capturing his companion in a hot, mind melting kiss. The bondage, the pain, all those thoughts were secondary to this. To getting John naked and undone on his bed. To see him come apart, to make him come apart.

Sherlock grabbed both of his wrists in one hand and started to drag him toward the bedroom. Upon entering, he spun around John and pushed him face first onto the bed.

"Spread your legs." Sherlock growled happily as the man on the bed did what he was told, those muscular legs springing open. Sherlock ran his hands up John's thighs and gave his ass a tight squeeze before pulling his cheeks apart and licking a stripe up the crack, right over that pretty little pucker hiding there. John gasped and moaned, doing his best not to buck back into Sherlock's face. Sherlock licked quick stripes up over and over again until John was babbling and begging for something more. Sherlock chuckled. 

"Flip over." He said softly and John immediately complied. Sherlock reached into one of the bed side table drawers and sought out the lube hiding in there. He stood and tossed it up by John's head. "Take that. I want to watch you open yourself up for me. Fuck yourself open on your fingers, but don't you dare cum. In fact..." Sherlock said thoughtfully, reaching into the drawer and taking out something that looked a lot like an elastic hair tie. "I'll make sure of it. Lay still." John didn't move as Sherlock strapped his aching cock into the cock ring. "Now, begin." Sherlock said, crossing his arms over his chest. John grabbed the lube and slicked up a few fingers, but only started with one. 

Sherlock watched as John arched into his own touch, his own finger, probing deep into him. John let out a low moan and tried in vain to find his own prostate, faltering for a moment before pulling his one finger out and pushing in two. Sherlock licked his lips watching the soldier on his bed, taking orders like a good boy, fucking himself on his own fingers just so Sherlock could watch. He uncrossed his arms as John pulled out his two fingers, added just a little more lube before he shifted and plunged three of his own fingers deep inside his body. 

"You've done this before." Sherlock mused and smiled, watching the man get closer and closer to an edge he was never going to reach. John couldn't hear him or couldn't respond, he was too lost. John's moans were pouring from his lips, whispers of Sherlock's name and begging him to get inside him and fuck him already. Sherlock wanted to hear him say it clearly, so he slowly approached John and wrapped his fingers around his ankle. John paused and Sherlock grabbed his wrist to pull his fingers out of him.

"Say it again, so I can hear you." Sherlock said, looking him dead in the eyes. 

"Sherlock, please. I've wanted you for so long, this is torture. I've fucked myself open so many times thinking of you, screaming your name. I'm surprised you haven't heard me." John panted. Sherlock reached and grabbed the lube, slicking up his hard cock before pressing it up against John's entrance. John moaned deeply and let out another please before Sherlock shifted and was finally sliding deep into the heat of one John Watson. It was exquisite and tight and hot and oh so perfect and Sherlock moaned loudly, wrapping John's legs around his waist. 

Sherlock started slowly, taking his time to feel the tight pull and squeeze of John. His mouth had dropped open and John was moaning like a two dollar hooker, which was probably normal considering Sherlock had cum once already. Slowly he started to pick up the pace, angling himself so when the head of his cock slid over John's prostate, the little fucking cock whore moaned and arched high up off the bed. Faster and faster he started to hit that spot, and soon had fallen into pounding into John with wild abandon. The man beneath him was positively babbling, begging to cum. More than anything, Sherlock wanted to see that, but not until the perfect moment. Sweet John, flushed with arousal, cock standing hard and heavy, red and aching. Sherlock stroking his prostate with every thrust and looking at the man he had come to love slowly falling apart beneath him. Sherlock slowed his pace and John finally opened his eyes too look at him, breathing heavy, irises no longer visible. 

"I'm going to take off the cock ring, John. You aren't allowed to cum until I say so." Sherlock said between pants and thrusts. John could only nod. Sherlock slid the cock ring off his partner and resumed his earlier pace, slamming into the man who was begging for more. He was begging to cum, begging to be fucked harder and deeper and more... Sherlock suddenly found himself on the edge. He wasn't going to wrap his fingers around John, he was going to fuck the orgasm out of him. He leaned down so John could hear him.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, and then I'm going to fill up this hot little ass with my cum, do you hear me?" John muttered out what could be considered a yes. "And when I do, you're going to cum." Sherlock thrust into him half a dozen more times before he was ready. "Cum for me John... cum for me... John!" He screamed as he came, pulsing and hot deep inside of his lover. John had beat him to it by mere milliseconds, splattering them both with hot thick ropes all over their chests. Both men were panting and trying to catch a breath. Sherlock leaned down and kissed John deeply. Only pulling away when he couldn't take the world spinning anymore.

"John." He panted. "My John." Sherlock pushed them both up on the bed, still buried inside his lover, pressing little kisses against open skin. John's eyes were closed and it almost looked like he was crying. "John?" The soldier opened teary but smiling eyes and looked up at Sherlock.

"We should have done that a long time ago." John said with a sniffle. "I've never felt that good, or felt so whole in my entire life, Sherlock. I love you." He said pressing a remarkably chaste kiss against the detectives lips.

"Good thing I'm keeping you then." Sherlock said, sliding out of John and curling up next to him. "I'll let you breathe for a moment, but I still like the idea of us going to dinner. I'm still going to pump you full of cum and plug you up. Wear me out on the town." Sherlock said nuzzling into his ear.

"Mmm, sounds like a date." John said with a small huff of laughter.

"I love you too, John Hamish Watson." Sherlock murmured.


End file.
